I had a busy day of work and errands, and I wanted to sit down and write, but my daughter had other plans. She asked if I would play two-square with her outside. She wanted to practice so she could play (and beat) the older kids at school. So I put off this post and went out into the winter sun to bounce the green rubber playground ball back and forth.
We talked about eight-year-old stuff. School, and mean people, and when she could invite her newest friend over for a playdate. I watched her skinny arms and legs dive and reach for the ball. She has already confided in me about how she thinks her smile is weird or her arms are too hairy, or her teeth too spaced apart…all things I love about her in her quintessential little girlness.
Walking through the years with her, I can see it coming. The insecurities that will come and set up camp. The careless comments that will sting and penetrate into her very essence. Raising daughters is amazing and special; it is also haunting and painful.
I see her in my rearview mirror, staring out the window. Ruminating on the events of the day, or what’s to come. I try to give her the right advice. To tell her to always be kind, even when someone is difficult. That we are all trying to do the best we can and what we see on the outside is only a small part of what’s really going on. Then I hear my words echo and fade away, realizing what I see in the rearview mirror is only a small part of what’s really going on…
I think back over my own childhood. Trying to piece together what the path to a whole and happy and healthy experience should look like, so that I can pave the way for my daughter. I wrack my brain, trying to find the key to the door of Self-Worth. How does one find the key to unlock the door to loving oneself? If I had it, I would gladly hand it down to her.
I feel the dread that comes with knowing that she will have to find it herself. If I knew how to make the journey easy, I would. Shine the light on the path that illuminates the door. But there are so many variables, so many possibilities. So many wrong turns and saving graces. Plus, if I showed her the door, she’d probably choose a window instead.
I think that the combination of searching for my self worth and finding alcohol in my teens led me on some vicious detours. Maybe if I had embraced sports or other healthy pursuits instead of the bottle, my courage and confidence would have been authentic. Instead, it was illusory and entwined with the liquid elixir.
If I could go back and have another go, I would spend time doing things I loved instead of looking for boys to love me. I would love myself instead of drowning out my essence in ethanol. In short, I would choose me.
So I talk to her. About how I wish I’d never started drinking, and how hard it is to stop. About how much it takes from a person, especially one who is young and insecure to start with. During a time when you’re trying to figure out what to add to yourself, you don’t need something that will subtract or multiply.
And she listens. She remembers enough of how I used to be to know that I’ve made a good change. She sees the ads that glamorize drinking, the prominent product placement in the stores, and how all the shows on television depict alcohol as essential to life and good times. She confidently proclaims that she will never drink poison.
Ah, if it were only that simple. I want more than anything to protect her. To carefully, lovingly build her up inside this protective bubble so she can drift through her teenage years in a pure, unbroken state. But already, I see the screens demanding her attention, the whispers causing tears. And I remember that desperate need to feel some sort of self-mastery. The search for relief. The frantic attempts to cope that lead to dead-ends and detours.
I want her road to be paved, her path illuminated, her door unlocked. I want her to see how achingly beautiful she is without filters or judgments. I want her to know the truth: that beauty is on the inside and love beautifies us all.
But I know that’s not how it works. Just as I had to stumble and find my way in the dark, only to come upon a locked door. A door which I then beat my head against instead of using the key (oh and that’s the secret, by the way, you always have the key). Just as I had to be burnt down to ashes before I could emerge as something I now understand to be beautiful, she too, will have to to have her own journey.
This insight consumes me with fear and anguish. It also fills me with hope and summons my faith. She has a long way to travel, yet I will be with her as much as she’ll allow.
And right now, I’ll stick to two-square.
Amazing piece, Collette. I can relate to so much of it. How old is your daughter? (I have two of my own).
Thank you! I think the mother-daughter relationship holds so much tension between wanting to protect them (from our mistakes) and wanting to see them make it on their own. Mine is 8, btw. And I think they grow up way too fast these days. She’s telling me her friend is boy crazy…she’s 8!!! How old are yours?💕
I have two daughters, 16 1/2 & 18 years old. I have never felt so many more emotions than ever before since being a mom. We have talked about alcohol here. Mostly how it can get you into situations where you aren’t able to help yourself, drinking and driving…things like that. My girls have been really good about alcohol and I’m so glad I’ve kept that line of communication open. Enjoy those younger years! They go by so fast! ❤️
Thank you, friend. Yes l, they surely do. I’m afraid she’ll hate me when she’s a teenager because I want through I time I remember hating my mom (even though I loved her, you know what I mean). I’m glad you can have open conversation with your daughters. That’s the most important thing, I think. 💕
Oh yes! There was a point when I was a teenager if my mom even said the word “and” I was annoyed. 🤣 I do know my girls get annoyed with me at times however it’s always short lived. 👍🏻
Fear and hope indeed. When both my kids were born I learned what unconditional love meant. In that very instance it struck and I knew this was beyond any kind of love I’d ever experience with anyone else. Watching them grow and learn often the hard way like me is definitely hard but it’s The Way. Like you I’m a much better role model now and try to provide as much bright light for them to learn from. I don’t know about you, but i didn’t get much guidance at all growing up and when I did I didn’t listen. I think I didn’t listen because I never heard the back stories. I’m much more “personal” with my kids and definitely share many of dragons so they can gleam some wisdom hopefully. It’s quite the dance and once again I rambled…😊❤️🤗
A beautiful post! My girls are all grown now, and what a gift they are to us. They have said us sharing our stories of our mistakes, or times when we were misguided or just misadvised by others were helpful to have tucked in the back of their minds when they faced their own dilemmas. We also were conscious as they got older that our experience of life might not be their experience, so would say I can only tell you what it was like for me or how i dealt with this… it might not be great advice, so make up your own mind.
Yes, I think that is a great approach to preface it with, “this was my experience,” or “this is what I chose to do”. I’m so glad to hear your daughters continue to bless your life! 💕
Oh my goodness, Collette, I think about this all of the time with my own beautiful 9-year-old daughter. I want so desperately to have her skip all of that insecurity and be able to know her own worth-to not go through what I went through. It’s hard accept that we can offer guidance but that they ultimately have to find their own way. 💕
Thank you, Leafy. It’s a complex, rewarding and difficult role we’re filling, raising girls against the backdrop of our own experiences! I know you know how I feel, and that helps a lot. We’re in this together! 💕
Definitely! 🤗
So well put! I look at my daughter and all I see is perfection, but I know that as she grows older she will doubt herself and her abilities. I want to wrap her up and keep her safe, I dread the day when she comes home upset because someone was mean, or broke her heart, I know I won’t always be able to fix things. Such a beautiful post, it sounds like you have a great relationship with your daughter. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for reading! Yes it’s great now, but I dread those rocky teenage years. I remember how I was to my mom… but we manage to get through, hopefully with some degree of grace and friendship, and a lot of faith! 💕
Having 3 sisters I can vouch for the parenting thrills of teenage times. Me and my brother were so much easier to handle. ❤️